Like Father, Like Brother, Like Son
by TheWordCliche
Summary: Takes you into the life of Daryl Dixon before the Apocalypse. Just how different from Merle is he exactly?
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story about Daryl's wonderfully broken childhood. It may continue from this point on, with flashbacks, or it may be a bunch of one shots from various times in his life. It depends on what you'd rather see so leave me a review. Or I may just leave it as a one-shot. ****  
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**Disclaimer: Of course I do not own The Walking Dead. **

**Warnings: Minor Adult themes(No descriptions) Ratings in the story may change depending. But will not go beyond 16+. (Mainly just for future language.) **

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"That was nice, Dixon." The girl practically cooed at him, Daryl resisted the urge to throw up at her overly sweet voice. He looked down momentarily at their clad bodies, physically cringing when she wrapped her tired arms around his waist.

"Wh-What are you doing?" He couldn't shove her away from him fast enough, as clambered off the bed frantically searching for his clothes.

"It's called cuddling, Dixon." She spit his last name at him, her voice quickly loosing the sweetness. That was the way girls always were around here, but he'd be damned if he was going to cuddle. "That older brother of yours didn't seem to mind it so much." He glared at her once before slipping out the door, buttoning his blue plaid shirt on the way out.

It didn't shock Daryl that she had slept with Merle; he didn't think there were many girls he hadn't slept with. Besides, he definitely didn't care enough about the girl to regret that decision for her, she had definitely over-estimated her abilities anyway, and truth be told Daryl left unimpressed.

Daryl stuck his hand in his pocket, fishing for his brother's old pocket knife, he had stolen it from Merle's room once Merle had gotten lifted by the cops for beating some guys head in, or something along those lines. Daryl hadn't asked any questions once the police came over to announce what happened, he learned a long time ago that being quiet was just the better option. He grunted in annoyance when his hands didn't rest on anything, the last thing he wanted to do was to make a return visit to little miss attitude.

He sighed, figuring he'd just have to get it later, as he made his way through the over-grown grass of his falling-apart-piece-of-shit house. He hated his house almost as much as he hated the people living in it, although currently there was only him and his mother. He tripped over a green hose frantically scooting away, calmly noting it wasn't a snake. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking that he put that away yesterday, shrugging it off and standing up. Shaking the dust off his jeans, he walked inside his house, avoiding the caving in floorboards.

"Ma, I'm home!" He called, heading to his mother's room. He knocked on the door lightly before peeking his head in, she had a few beers beside her bed, and an empty pack of cigarettes.

"Get me those ones over there will you?" She demanded, pointing to the pack up on the dresser. He handed them to her, noting that she was wearing the same clothes as when he'd seen her last. "Where were you? Y'know your brother and your father both have left me so many times, I guess it just makes sense you would too." She coughed up what sounded like her own lungs, hunching over out of pain.

"I was just busy, ma'." Daryl leaned against the door way. "Do you need anythin'?"

"Nothin'." Daryl could tell he wouldn't hear from her for the rest of the day. She would talk to him like a real mother for about two minutes a week, but after that he'd be lucky to get a hello. He shuffled out of her room tracing his hand along the wall, feeling the wallpaper cracking under fingers, past Merle's room, towards his own. He opened his door, staring at his familiarly simple room he collapsed on his broken bed, and tucked his arm behind his head. He'd spent his whole life living in this room, and there was nothing that told him even remotely of his childhood, except for a picture on his desk of him and Merle when they were younger. Daryl chuckled at the fact that they both had matching bruises on their cheeks, no doubt from their father.

"Real normal childhood there." He said to himself, listening to the sound of the fan above his head.

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**Please if you liked it, let me know, and leave me what you want to see. **


	2. Crossbow

**Thank you so much for the reviews and the follows and everything!(: I'll definitely try to work on longer chapters. I just wanted to get this chapter posted as soon as possible, the others I will work on for a few days. Let me know what you'd like to see and everything and I will try to make it happen!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl or Merle or The Walking Dead characters. **

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_Daryl sat on the wooden floorboards of the living room, he was absent-minded, playing with a wooden horse carving. He listened to Merle talk to his father in the kitchen, he was barely eight, and could never imagine speaking to their dad the way Merle was. He glanced back at his mother who was seated on the couch. She stared straight ahead, twiddling her fingers nervously. _

"_What'd Merle do ma'?" The boy inquired his voice low and quiet. _

"_Hush, Daryl. " He didn't say another word, keeping his focus on the horse. It really was a stupid toy, he thought to himself. He jumped at the sound of a plate being broken, his frightened eyes peeking up under his bangs as he watched Merle stalk off to his room. Daryl watched his father walk back into the living room, taking a seat next to his mother, both silent. He sat there for what seemed like a long time till his father finally said, _

"_Son, why don't you go play in your room for a while? Me and your momma need to have a talk." Daryl noted the way his father's lips curled into a grin, menacingly. _

"_Yessir'." He scampered out of that room like the Devil was chasing him, picking his horse up on the way he scurried down the hall, passing his own room as he peeked his head into Merle's room. _

_Merle was casually lying on his bed, throwing a baseball in the air. That was Daryl's baseball, but he'd never mention such a fact to his older brother. He shuffled his way into Merle's room, taking a seat at his brother's desk. Merle had a nice bruise forming on his face, already beginning to swell. He waited for a few moments before finally breaking the silence._

"_I found this today, Merle." Daryl held up the toy to his older brother, smiling broadly. He didn't even have to take it from someone; he found it lying in a ditch by the lake, completely forgotten. Merle stared at the toy for a moment before yanking it out of his brother's hands, opening his window. He took out his pocket knife, and sat on the windowsill, already snapping its head before Daryl had the chance to realize what he was doing. _

"_Merle!" He tried to get the horse back, easily being over powered by his brother. "That was mine." _

"_It was a stupid toy." Merle grabbed his younger brother by the collar of his shirt, violently throwing him out of his room and slamming the door shut. _

_The moment Daryl made contact with the wall; he glanced up at his father's large figure standing over him. _

"_I thought I told you to go to your room." His father hissed._

Daryl awoke to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside his window, he rolled his eyes at them. Shuffling, he climbed out of his bed, quickly switching clothes, and walking towards the kitchen. He avoided the caved in floor, and headed towards the fridge. Repetition was his worst enemy and once again he found himself facing a nearly empty fridge, sighing he grabbed the orange juice. He leaned up to grab two glasses, and somehow managed to find bread. He always made breakfast for his mother, knowing she'd never eat if he didn't force her too. He figured she just wanted to rot away, it was desperate really.

He finished fixing their breakfast, quietly delivering it on a tray to his mother's room; she didn't speak a word to him as he silently sat the tray down on her bedside table. As he walked back into the kitchen, he found the calendar, something was check marked in red ink but he couldn't remember why. He then finished his breakfast alone at the table seated for four, making imaginary conversation with nonexistent people.

After he was well fed Daryl put his plate and glass in the sink, walking to the door. He slipped Merle's old boots on, grabbed his crossbow and headed out to pass the time by hunting.

Daryl had successfully shot down three squirrels and two jack rabbits by three o clock. He sat down tiredly, resting his elbows on his knees, and staring at the small pond that was located somewhere in the middle of the woods. He rubbed his face, flinging the sweat out of his hair, pondering momentarily about jumping in the pond. It was the middle of summer, and his jeans and leather boots, were not helping the Georgia heat. The trees were not providing very much shade either; he unhooked the squirrels and rabbits, he really didn't want to eat either. He had planned on just feeding it to the pack of stray dogs that wandered around sometimes; maybe he'd give it to someone. Either way, he definitely didn't want to eat it when he could just as easily run by the Dairy Queen and pick up a burger.

He tied the hunts of the day around a tree branch, along with his crossbow, and slipped Merle's boots off along with his shirt; he rolled his jeans up, and dove head first into the water. He let the water cool him down, relaxing in the soft current the wind made. His eyes closing, losing track of time.

"There ain't no girls to impress here, baby brother." Daryl's eyes flashed open; he'd recognize that southern drawl anywhere. He noted that Merle looked much older, though he couldn't have been gone for more than a year, at least he didn't think he had. His hair was the exact same, and so was his posture, he looked shockingly like his father.

"Hey Merle." Daryl simply stated, climbing out of the pond shaking his wet hair out of his eyes.

"That's it? No hug? No kiss?" Daryl rolled his eyes at his older brother's grin, moving past Merle to reach his crossbow. He threw it over his shoulder, grabbing his shirt but not bothering to put it on, leaving the dead animal carcasses there. He couldn't get farther away from his brother fast enough, but knew that Merle wouldn't be leaving him alone for a while. He was like the plaque and Daryl hated his guts for destroying what little was left of his mother and most likely his own sanity.

"You forgot your boots." Merle called, grabbing them and trotting up next to Daryl.

"They're yours anyway." He picked up his pace, hoping and pleading that Merle would get the message and leave him alone before he clocked him upside his head.

"What're you wearin' my boots for, ya'miss me that much?" Merle roughly hit the back of Daryl's head. "Y'know, all ya' had to do was call me."

Daryl stopped dead in his tracks, making Merle turn around to look at him. Daryl pulled the crossbow from off his back and pointed in straight at his brother's head, with seconds to spare. He kept it raised high, not missing a beat, able to fire at any moment.

"You're a fuckin' asshole, Merle." Daryl hissed at him.

"You gonna shoot me Daryl? Go ahead. I dare ya'." Merle knew very well his brother wouldn't do it. He was firing off anger right now, Daryl was always a hot head, but he never had the balls to go through with whatever he needed to do. He stared at Daryl's face for a few second, trying to figure out if he was going to cry or not. He wouldn't be surprised, honestly. He laughed as Daryl lowered the crossbow and stalked off. "Y'know baby brother! One day bein' a sissy isn't gonna work for you!"


	3. Brutal

_**Hi guys, thank you for reviewing and all. I really do appreciate it, and it definitely inspires me to write more. If there is anything you'd like to see, just let me know. I love suggestions!(: **_

_**Warnings: A little bit of language in this chapter, some f bombs, and child abuse. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**_

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Daryl kept up his frustrated pace, walking along the roadside, flipping the cars off that honked at him. There was no denying he was angry, Merle had no right, and honestly he wished he'd never come home. He wondered momentarily if he was being over-dramatic, and as much as he hated to admit the fact that he felt a little abandoned by his older brother.

He rearranged the crossbow on his back; the worn leather strap was not the most comfortable thing in the world. He jumped back away from the car that was going way too fast, and purposely trying to scare him off the road. Daryl threw both his middle fingers up at the car, he wasn't about to walk in the grass beside the road, there were thousands of snakes in there, and he was still missing Merle's boots. He turned one of the road corners, walking along the old worn dirt road ignoring every detail of useless scenery until he came to a house.

Regretfully he marched towards the door; he took a few minutes to gain his nerve, and knocked. He was hoping he wouldn't have to see her again after their last conversation, but Merle's knife was located somewhere in that house, and Daryl really wasn't in the mood to deal with his brother's wrath. When she opened the door, her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her face; with a smug smile on she eyed him.

"I knew you'd come crawling back, Dixon." He rolled his eyes at her.

"Yeah well, don't get too excited. I left my knife here." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, flinching when she moved her hand slightly. He mentally cursed himself, hating that that was his first reaction.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." She played dumb, and he grew more annoyed. He knew she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You're the one that took it out of my pocket, Anne." Daryl rested his elbow on the side of the house, seemingly uncaringly.

"Nope, I don't recall." Her smirk was really starting to get on his nerves.

"I'm serious; just get me the damn knife." He eyed her hand that had now found its way into his.

"And what do I get in return, hmm?" He hated the way she sounded, and he yanked his arm away, exasperatedly waltzing his way inside her house. He could tell she was following him, going on about how he had no right to be in here. He rolled his eyes, trudged up the stairs and into her room. He went through her drawers, moving jewelry boxes and cigarette packs out of the way, trying to spot the oak wood knife.

"You have no right Daryl! This is my house, get out!" He heard her screech at him, he turned raising his hands in exasperated anger at her.

"Well, where the hell is it then?!" He watched her face as her lips turned into a smirk again, he began rummaging once again, going through everything he could find. "You're a real bitch, y'know that?"

"Is it this one?" She pulled the knife from inside the desk drawer, swinging it in front of her. When he went to grab it from her she pulled it around her back, looking up into his eyes mischievously. "Not without a kiss first."

He resisted the urge to gag at the sound of her giggle, feeling her press up into him, pouting her lips. "Fuck, no. Just give me the damn knife." She huffed, pulling the knife from around her back and opening it so the blade flashed in front of his eyes. She traced it carefully down the side of his face, making his breathing stop to a halt before he grabbed her hand in his, yanking the knife from her grasp. He wasted no time in leaving that house.

"Crazy fuckin' bitch." He shook his head, making his way off her front porch steps, putting the blade back in his pocket and stalking off down the road towards his house. He planned on sneaking the knife back into Merle's room before Merle could even notice it was gone.

Daryl arrived at his house, rubbing his face, before taking a deep breath and stepping through the door. He shut it quietly behind him, hanging his crossbow up, and walking into the kitchen. He saw his mother huddled over the stove, making what seems to be some sort of stew; he stood there frozen for a few moments. Daryl's eyes surveyed the scene, noting Merle leaning casually up against the counter. He heard their voices, frowning at how casually his mother could talk to Merle, after barely speaking for the length of time he'd been gone.

"Oh, hi Daryl, honey. Did you see that Merle was back?" Her smile was bright and welcoming, but Daryl couldn't manage to return it. "I'm making vegetable stew."

Daryl turned around, walking out of the kitchen and casually slipping into Merle's room; he slipped the knife out of his pocket and into the table beside his brother's bed. He walked into his room; his jeans were already dry so he didn't bother slipping out of them. He put his shirt in the laundry basket, before slipping another one over his shoulders. He buttoned it up, running a hand through his hair, mentally preparing himself for dinner.

It only took about fifteen minutes before his mother was calling him to the table. He quietly walked in, quickly taking a seat across from Merle. His mother poured him and Merle their servings of soup and a glass of water with it.

"Did you know Merle visited Florida before he came back here, Daryl?" She smiled at the both of them, as Merle returned it graciously. Daryl raised his eyebrows once, seemingly unimpressed. "I should have known he'd come back."

"Aw, ma. You know I could never leave you for long in the care of Daryl here, he can't keep nothin' alive. Remember that pup he found? Hah! Damn thing didn't last a week." Merle chuckled lightly.

Daryl remembered that puppy, just like he remembered his father shooting it through the brains. He claimed that it was just another mouth to feed. He ate in silence, not joining in on the conversation until Merle directed it back to him.

"So Daryl, how're you keepin' up with the bills an all? Cause' since I've been here, I haven't seen you do shit." Merle inquired of him.

"We manage." Daryl stated simply, pushing his food away from him. "Thanks for dinner, ma'." He got up from the table, putting his bowl in the sink and walked out.

"Y'know, dad was right when he said you ain't worth anythin'!" Merle always had to get the last word in and didn't fail this time, as he called after Daryl.

Daryl slammed his door shut, kicked a wall, and sat down on his bed angrily. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Bringing Merle back was like bringing all the pain of his life back with him. He hated Merle, and he hated that he hated the fact that he couldn't hate Merle.

He replayed his brother's words in his head, it was this awful habit Daryl had, he always listened to Merle and sometimes he wish he could just forget everything he said. He fell back on his bed, sighing to himself.

"_Daryl!?" He heard his father yell from the kitchen. _

_Daryl was twelve years old and his best friend had been throwing a fit to come over to his house for a change. He was hoping and praying his father would be at work for a few hours at least. That wasn't the case as he motioned for his best friend to stay there. _

"_I'll be right back." Daryl walked into the kitchen, his eyes cast down childishly. "Yes sir?" _

_He watched his father's furrowed eyebrows. "Did you make that mess?" His father pointed to the broken glass in the corner. Daryl knew it was Merle that had broken it, in his anger this morning. Daryl would've cleaned it up himself, but he was late for school already. So when his father asked, he had no answer. _

"_So it was you then, you little shit." Daryl braced himself for impact, closing his eyes as he felt the familiar pain of a punch to the side of his face. He was quickly knocked down, and every hit came as a blur, his eyes quickly pooling up with tears he couldn't control. He heard every word his father threw at him, despite the ringing in his ears from the initial blow. _

_He heard a door creak open, while both he and his father jumped at the sound of a gasp. He looked at his best friend, who seemed like he'd just seen a ghost, the boy's eyes wide with terror. Daryl tried to get his friend to stay, but his friend reacted too fast as he ran out of the house. _

"_Why – Didn't –You –Tell –Me –Someone –Was –Over?" Each word out of his father's mouth came with another kick to his stomach. Eventually the pain stopped as his father stormed out of the room. Daryl lay there, his arms curled over his head and sobs wracking his body. He never spoke to his best friend after that. _


	4. Aggression

_**Hi all! Thank you for the reviews and the follows and everything. Seriously means a lot to me(: You know the drill, let me know if you want to see anything happen. **_

_**Disclaimer: Of course I do not own The Walking Dead**_

_**Warnings: Slight Language Slight Violence. **_

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"Wake up baby brother."

Daryl groaned, rolling over unto his stomach, pulling his blanket over his head. He couldn't name how many times Merle had to wake him up for school, how many times he had to make sure he got there on time, how many times he got in a fight and Merle had to come pick him up.

"Get up, lazy ass."

Daryl felt the hit to the back of his head through the blanket. He wasn't even sure why Merle wanted him up, he didn't have any reason to get up.

"I have an ice cold bucket a' water with your name on it. Just say the word." Merle threatened.

"I'm up, damn it." He rolled over, ready to get out of bed, when he felt the ice cold rush of water. He could hear Merle's howls of laughter. Angrily, he stood up, shoving Merle out of his way and heading towards the bathroom.

"When are ya' gonna stop bein' mad at me?"

Daryl slammed the bathroom door shut, kicking his jeans off. He looked down at his chest, eyeing his multiple scars, running his fingers over them. He had stories for each and every one. He dug his hands into his stomach, clawing at the scars, angrily looking up into the mirror, using the back of his hands to angrily brush away the tears that had fallen; he turned around, sliding down the sink to the floor, clutching his head in his hands. He tried to catch his breath, shaking his head excessively.

_Daryl sat outside on a curb, behind the high school, he was a freshman. He had friends, not many, but a few. It was lunch time, and they would've easily allowed him to sit with them, it only made him angrier. He had no lunch, and he had no money, and he didn't want to have to face the questions they were bound to ask. Everyone always asked._

"_Daryl? Where did that bruise come?" "Did you get in a fight?" "Why weren't you at the party last night?" "Are you okay?" "Are you sure?" "Do you need me to tell someone?" _

_He hated every moment when someone figured it out, or assumed things. He would never fess up, he'd never told anyone about it a day in his life. If it meant that he had to sit outside during lunch, pretending to be meeting up with Merle for lunch, then he would. Merle never picked him up for lunch, said he could survive without three meals a day. Not that he minded, he was pretty used to the hunger. _

"_Dixon?" _

_Daryl looked up to see a sophomore group of boys; he could tell they were middle class, if not upper middle class. _

"_You're brother's Merle, right?" The boy asked him._

_Daryl didn't speak to them, just took a drag of his cigarette. They frowned at each other, a few making a smart mouthed joke. _

"_You deaf, kid?" The talkative boy waved his hand in front of Daryl's face. Causing Daryl to reach out and grab the guy's arm, he never shied away from a fight; however he wasn't positive that this kid even wanted a fight to begin with. That didn't stop the boy from reacting, punching Daryl square in the face rather quickly, as he stood up. Suddenly it had turned into a fight, both still a little unsure of what had happened. They were rolling around on the grass in two minutes flat, both throwing punches. _

_Daryl definitely didn't hate fights, it was a nice change of pace to be able to actually fight back, Merle and his father both still were being able to overpower the fifteen year old boy. Plus the pain of a fight was easier to handle, but the sophomore boy didn't seem to be able to deal with Daryl's frantically thrown punches. _

_He'd heard Merle talk about blacking out before, when he wailed on this guy really hard once. Said he barely knew where he was let alone what he was doing. Daryl sort of felt like that when he was sitting on the guys chest, throwing uppercuts. Merle said aggression ran in the family, and Daryl never really doubted that._

_The next thing Daryl knew he was sitting outside the principal's office, his slightly torn plaid shirt hanging off his slumped shoulders, he stared at the floor, waiting for Merle. He wasn't looking forward to having to explain it to Merle, knowing he'd be angry for getting him called out of work. He didn't think Merle would really care about the concussion Daryl had given that kid, or the broken rib, or the fact that Daryl was on suspension. _

_Merle didn't say a word to him until they were close enough to the house, standing on the lawn, with the overly grown grass. _

"_Daryl, I swear to fuckin' God, if you get me fired." _

_Daryl didn't have time to react as Merle grabbed him by his collar, he was still taller than Daryl by a foot, and he could feel himself be slightly lifted off the ground as Merle got closer to his face. _

"_I'll kill you." Merle threatened, his eyes gleaming._

_Daryl didn't doubt it, swallowing hard as Merle chucked him on the ground. His head hit the ground with a clunk, causing his eyes to get dizzy. He rubbed the back of his head as he vaguely watched Merle walk away._

Daryl walked out of the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower. He noted his mother sitting on the living room couch, she was smoking a cigarette, the smoke wafting around her.

"Goodmornin' ma." Daryl greeted her, before opening the small closet near the door of the house. He searched through, trying to find a pair of his dad's old work boots. He didn't see Merle's so he assumed he had taken them for himself.

"We're out of alcohol, Daryl. Get some on your way home tonight?" His mother called from the couch.

"Alright, ma'." He finally found a pair of boots, and slipped them on, they didn't feel as good as Merle's, they were a lighter brown color too.

Daryl bent down to lace them up, before stepping outside into the morning. It was early enough for the heat not to be too unbearable yet. He saw Merle in the truck, and sighed, walking over and leaning against the car door, peering in through the open window.

"What'd you wake me up for?" Daryl questioned, tapping on the inside of the car habitually.

Merle eyed his hand, blinking once before grinning. "We're gonna go get you a job now brother."

"The hell are you goin' on about?" Daryl stepped away from the car door long enough for Merle to open it. He waited for a few moments before slipping in the car.

"You're gonna go work for Joe." Merle, stepped on the gas, peeling out of the driveway and unto the road.

Merle always drove recklessly, and Daryl didn't bat an eye when they got honked at. He leaned his head against the window, he really didn't want to get a job, he'd managed just fine helping the neighborhood around, and he wasn't thrilled about the idea of actually working for someone. He had a really hard time listening to anyone, that's why joining the army had never even crossed his mind. Merle had worked on and off for Joe for as long as Daryl could remember.

The next thing Daryl knew Merle was peeling into this construction like place. Merle got out of the car right away, walking over to Joe and shaking hands with him, a grin plastered on his face. Daryl rolled his eyes before opening the car door and getting out. He marched up beside Merle, taking Joe's hand when he reached for his.

"Hey kid, nice to see you." Joe patted him on his back, before turning back to Merle. "So, what can I help y'all with? That house a' yours finally givin' up?"

Daryl recognized Joe's hat, he'd once found Daryl on the side of the road beaten black and blue, drunk out of his mind. He woke up on a Joe's couch that morning, and he and his wife made him stay for breakfast. He was always thankful because it was freezing cold that night, he'd have gotten sick for sure.

"Nope, Daryl needs a job and I need mine back." Merle was blunt, but Daryl looked up at him suddenly.

"I ain't workin' with you." Daryl crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, the last thing he wanted to do was work with Merle.

"I got room for the both of ya, certainly Merle. Ain't no problem." Joe's smile was a mile wide. "You can get started on helpin' Greg and Chad."

Merle was already headed over there before Daryl had time to tell him again that he didn't plan on working at the same place with him. He glanced back at Joe who was still smiling.

"Brody c'mere!" Joe turned to yell at someone who was working on cutting a few pieces of wood. He walked over, reaching out for Daryl's hand. Daryl took his, nodding in greeting.

"Brody, this is Daryl, I need you to help him he ain't worked here before." Joe patted them both on the back, before walking into the building.

"It's nice to meet ya' Daryl. We're just cuttin' wood today and makin' some basic stuff. Tomorrow we got an actual house to finish." Brody walked over to where he was before, leaving no choice but for Daryl to follow him.

By the end of the day, Daryl had five splinters in his left hand, for not listening to Brody when he told him to put gloves on. Once he and Merle were in the car, he pulled them out using his teeth. He hated that job, but didn't dare tell Merle. He'd probably call him a sissy for not wanting to get his hands dirty, but Daryl swore that wasn't it. He didn't like the fact that he was continuing his father's trade, anymore than he liked the fact that he was continuing Merle's trade. He never wanted to be in construction.

"You need to cut that mop of yours, boy." Merle glanced over at him.

"I like it long." Daryl mumbled, running his fingers through his sweat drenched hair.

"None a' the girls do though. Bet you ain't been laid in months little brother." Merle's laughter echoed through the car.

"Yeah I have." Daryl furrowed his brow angrily.

"Yeah? By who then?" The doubt was clear in Merle's voice, as he rolled his eyes.

"Anne." Daryl hadn't thought through enough about what he was saying or he definitely wouldn't have mentioned her. Daryl glanced nervously over at his older brother, as his face dropped of all emotion.

"You what?"


	5. Fight VS Flight

**_Hi guys! Thank you so much for reviewing, favoriting, following, everything!(: It means a lot, y'know the drill if there is something you'd like to see don't be afraid to shout it out. _**

**_Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own the walking dead._**

**_Warnings: Child Abuse, Slight Language, Violence. (: _**

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"You what?"

Daryl could hear the tires squeak as Merle pulled over on the side of the road. Daryl's eyes were wide as he looked over at his brother. He wracked his memory for information about Merle and Anne, he knew they had dated but couldn't remember why they stopped.

"Get out!" Merle's eyes were darker than normal, his frown lines creased.

Daryl frantically opened his car door, falling out of the car. He got up, scurrying out of the way of the road. He waited for Merle's reaction, not sure if he was going to drive off and leave him there, or beat him to a pulp and leave him there. Daryl watched Merle get out, it wasn't rocket science that Merle would be stronger; he had anger on his side and desperation.

"You fuckin' around with Anne?" Merle hissed at him, not even giving him a chance to answer before punching him square in the face, sending Daryl to the ground.

Once Daryl had recovered from the blow, he attempted to kick Merle's feet out from under him, unsuccessfully. Daryl felt Merle's kicks to his side, sharp and painful. This wasn't a new experience for him; he couldn't remember how many times he'd been beaten black and blue and left on the street. He felt his brother's weight on his chest, pinning his arms down when Daryl tried to punch him.

"Tell me." Merle's voice was cold, and Daryl could feel the blood trickling out of his own nose already.

"You know what I did, Merle." He answered finally, watching Merle's fist come back in contact with his own face.

"You little shit." Merle reached into his back pocket, eyeing Daryl once he started trying to scamper away like an injured animal. "Aw, nuh uh little brother. Where do you think you're headed?"

Daryl saw the flash of light from the steel blade, hating how his breathing almost seemed to turn into whimpers. He managed to get one of his hands loose, and punched Merle on the left cheek. He tried to get the advantage, attempting to punch him again, which only ended a sharp stab of pain to his side. He could feel the knife slowly withdraw, noting only then that it seemed Daryl must have successfully returned Merle's pocket knife. Daryl watched him stand up, throwing a kick at his feet again, only to double over to the side in pain.

"See ya later, Daryl." Merle's grin was terrifying, he noted as he watched him get into the truck and speed off.

Daryl sat up carefully, lifting his shirt up to see how deep the wound was; he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand to get the blood off. He figured the cut wasn't too bad, considering the lack of blood. Better safe than sorry he thought as he tore a piece of his shirt off, and tied it around his stomach. He felt his nose to make sure it wasn't broken, checking his ribs while he was at it. It wouldn't have been the first time Merle had broken his ribs, or his nose. Daryl always managed to have something broken.

_Daryl was fourteen, he had just walked home from school. He'd had his first kiss today, though he wouldn't dare tell anyone that it was his first. He saw his father's truck in the drive way, and decided it'd be a safer bet to sneak in through his window. He hadn't heard of anyone having to sneak into their own house before, but here he was, opening the window as quietly as he could manage. He hadn't opened the blinds that morning, now regretting it as he found himself tangled in them. He finally managed to get loose, cussing at the window after wards. Just as he turned around he stopped dead in his tracks to see his father holding a bag of something, Daryl knew it was probably drugs, well aware of Merle's addictions. _

"_This yours boy?" His father was almost too calm, it terrified him. _

"_No-No sir." Daryl shook his head frantically; he had no honest idea why the drugs were even in his room in the first place. _

"_Why did I find it under your mattress?" His father's blue eyes were as stone cold as a frozen lake. Daryl wondered momentarily why he was even searching through his room in the first place, he couldn't have really cared if Daryl had been doing drugs._

"_I don't know." He looked down; bracing himself for the contact he hadn't come to expect anything but the pain. He watched his father's hand put the drugs into his shirt pocket, taking them for himself. Daryl considered for a moment, that he wasn't going to be hit this time, looking up hopefully just in time for his father to pick him up and throw him against his dresser, Daryl felt the hard contact of the wood, hearing glass shatter and things fall. _

"_You're worthless, you know that right?" His father grunted._

_He watched his father walk out of his room, groaning at the fact that he had nine years bad luck. After he let himself recuperate for a few moments, he climbed out his window in search of Merle. He was angry, and maybe he didn't have his head on right that afternoon, but Merle had set him up to save his own skin and Daryl wouldn't forgive it that easily. He trudged through the woods, calling out for his brother. _

"_Shut the hell up! You'll scare all the game away, stupid kid." His brother shushed him, from his spot behind the bushes._

_Daryl watched him angrily, as he shot the gun and missed his target by a mile. His brother turned around angrily. _

"_What do you want?" Merle crossed his hands over his chest. _

"_You planted those fucking drugs in my room!" Daryl yelled at him, throwing his hands in the air angrily, his own heart racing from the confrontation. He moved to get right in his brother's face; he was still shorter than his brother by a few inches. He punched Merle with all the force he could manage, slightly shocked when he heard the snap of his brother's nose. Daryl was not quite as stocky as his father or Merle, he was leaner built and had a smaller frame, his mother told him he took after her daddy, who he'd only met once considering their father thought he was a sissy, and that he was a bad influence on Daryl. _

_Merle had told him once, when Daryl was complaining about just wanting to fight back against their dad, that he was still too small, but he was fast, and all he had to do was get out of the house. Daryl thought that was a sissy move though, and only used it a few times. Now was one of those times as he saw the look of anger cross his older brother's face, as he grasped his nose with his hand, he beat it out of their real quick. _

Daryl had managed to start walking a little ways toward the house; it wasn't an easy feat considering the way he was hobbling. He counted the number of cars that drove by, fourteen and counting. He was getting ready to collapse on the grass and not even attempt to move again when a car pulled over. He saw the older lady, probably mid fifty's he guessed, as she smiled politely at him.

"Are you okay?" She questioned him, already stepping out of her car.

"Yes ma'am." He bit his lip awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

"Here, let me help you in the car. I'll patch you up at my house, and then I'll drive you home okay." She grabbed under his elbows, not really helping much, but more of comfortingly walking him over to the passenger side of the car. She opened the door for him, and helped him inside.

He sniffled nervously, hoping and praying he didn't get blood in her car. He stared out the front window, clutching his side with his arm.

"What's your name hun?" She drove the car easily, and Daryl noted how relaxing it was compared to being in a car with Merle.

"Daryl Dixon." He coughed a few times, wiping the blood from off his hands and unto his shirt.

Daryl zoned out once she started making polite conversation, he rubbed his face tiredly. He was really starting to hate the fact that Merle was home, he'd been fine with just him and his mother's company. All he had to do was make sure she ate at least something every day, and buy her cigarettes. Now that Merle was back life was a lot more effort. He was content just living life the same way every day as long as it was quiet, but when Merle came back it was a bar fight every night and a rock concert every night.

He jerked awake at the touch of someone's hand on his cheek, his body tensing out of habit. He looked into her brown eyes. He remembered vaguely her telling him her name, but couldn't remember if it was Coraline or Caroline.

"You were really out, you poor thing. Here, let's get you inside." She smiled sweetly, helping him out of the car.

He used the car door as leverage to get out of the car; he hated her use of calling him a poor thing. He definitely didn't enjoy being babied, especially not by someone he just met. However, she was offering to help him out, and a glass of water sounded pretty nice, so he figured it was worth it. He glanced back at the seat, checking for blood, sighing when he saw some.

"Sorry about the blood..." He mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Don't worry about it." She smiled, leading him into her house.

Daryl noticed how nice it was, it was clean and fresh, and homely. He let her lead him to the couch, but he refused to take a seat. He didn't want to mess up anymore of her items with his blood. She wouldn't let him out of it though, and made him sit down. He sat awkwardly while she went to get some supplies, his hands clasped together on his lap, observing the house. The light crème colored walls brightened up the whole house, and he was surprisingly uncomfortable. He really didn't want to be here any longer, but it would have been rude of him to just walk out the door.

Eventually she came back with a towel, gauze, and some type of antiseptic cream. She handed him a washcloth for his nose, which he took graciously to clean his face. He flinched when she began to raise his shirt slightly. He let her remove the piece of scrap clothing tied around his waist, gnawing on his lip when she began to clean the wound.

"Did you get stabbed…?" She questioned him, the shock clear in her voice. He would've said no, but his face was obviously bruised and battered, and he looked like he'd been in a fight.

"Yes. I was in a fight." He wasn't sure you could even call what had happened, a fight; he only ended up getting one punch in and mainly got a beating. He felt her wrap the gauze around him, her hands felt too gentle, and her touch too careful.

"Let me get you some water." She walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.

Daryl looked down at his waist; the bandage was clean and white, the blood not having seeped through yet. He remembered her offering him a ride home, but honestly he'd have preferred if Merle came to get him. He looked at the pictures hanging on a wall, she had family, and he couldn't make out who was who. There was a recent picture of her it seemed like, of her holding a baby, grandchild maybe? He wasn't sure. She returned with the water which he took, carefully sipping it.

They sat in silence until he finished the water; he got up then, setting the glass down carefully.

"Well uh, thank you for the hospitality…" He rubbed the back of his neck. He swallowed when he saw her grab her car keys.

"I'll drive you." She was already out the door, as he was about to protest. He didn't want her to see his house, not after she came from this type of place. She would take pity on him, and he definitely didn't want pity. He followed her out the door.

"No. That's okay. I can walk." He stuck his hands into his jean pockets, slouching casually.

"You could barely get inside the house a moment ago. I can call someone for you if you'd prefer?" She could clearly see his nervousness, but she didn't understand why.

Daryl momentarily considered it, but couldn't think of anyone she could call, he sighed beginning to move to get into her car. He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye, and rolled his eyes. Stupid old ladies were always bein' too nice. Once they were both in the car, he told her the way, but didn't speak to her other than that. He drummed his fingers on the car dashboard, nervously.

"So, why were you in a fight?" She glanced up at him momentarily before looking back at the road.

"My brother and I were rough' housing' is all." He told her to take the turn up ahead, staring at his hands. His fingernails needed to be clean, he thought to himself.

"Your brother stabbed you?" She glanced at him worriedly.

Daryl shrugged in response, thankful once they finally reached his driveway. "Uh, thanks again." He opened the car door, freezing when he felt her kiss his cheek. He got out of the car, waving to her once as she drove off. He scratched the side of his face, before walking inside. He slipped those ugly as hell boots off, and walked into the kitchen. His mother and Merle were there eating dinner, nearly done.

"Where were you Daryl?" His mother asked curiously. "There's some food on the stove."

"Nowhere, ma'." He said, eyeing Merle, before fixing himself a plate of food.


	6. Cigarettes and Alcohol

**Hey guys, sorry this took so long! I really put a lot of thought into this chapter, to get the plot rolling. I hope it turned out okay, I tried to fit this all in without it being too weird. (: So enjoy! Review, follow, favorite. **

**Disclaimer: Do not own them, do not own anyone, do not own anything. **

**Warnings: Language, as always because let's be real. Child Abuse/Neglect.**

Edit: Also, I have absolutely no idea why this posted on bold, but i can't seem to fix it so.

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Daryl was crudely awoken to the sound of Merle's voice; he attempted to ignore him, rolling over.

"Come on Darylina, time t' put your big girl panties on. You gotta work now." Merle's laughter was harsh and loud.

Daryl had had an uneventful night; he turned in for bed early, being exhausted. He was even worse off this morning, his ribcage was sore and he was sure he had a black eye. He grunted, scratching the side of his face. He gave a silent cheer of relief as Merle slapped his head before walking off. Daryl laid there, listening till he heard his brother's motorcycle rev up, he peeked out through his window watching his brother ride off.

He was faced with the decision to drive into work, or to skip it and go find some of his old buddies to hang out with. He hadn't seen them in a while, and he was definitely longing to be with someone that wasn't his older brother. He figured it was pretty bad of him to skip work on the second day, but shrugged it off anyway.

He made his decision as he got out of his broken bed, nearly tripping over his own feet on the way to his closet. Daryl ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide if it was dirty or not. He didn't feel like showering though, knowing how hard it would be to re-apply the gauze that was wrapped tightly around his waist. He carefully slid a new shirt on, going with a simple black tank top. He switched to his second pair of jeans, while he was at it.

He made his way down the hall, peeking into his mother's room; she had two bottles of wine by her bed and two cigarette boxes. She stared straight ahead, sipping straight from the bottle. She was still in her nightgown, which must've meant she hadn't felt much like playing mother today.

"I'll see you later, ma'." Daryl waited a few minutes for a response that never came, finally shuffling his way down the living room. He knew the hurt was probably evident in his eyes, thankful that Merle was already gone. He went to the kitchen, checking the clock; he was already five minutes late for work. Merle was going to be pissed, but he couldn't find the time to care. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge; he slipped on his shoes as he slid out the front door.

He wasn't sure if they still hung out where they used to, but figured he'd try there first. He took a swig of the beer as he made his way down the back roads. After walking for a few minutes, he cut through the dense woods, heading to the right automatically. He'd walked this way so often before, that he barely had to think about where he was going. He finished his beer as he reached the abandoned warehouse, chucking it to the side. He climbed in through the back window of the warehouse, sticking his hands in his pockets. He figured if they weren't inside smoking pot, they'd be in the front parking lot.

Of course, they could not have been there at all. But it'd only been a few weeks since he'd seen them, and figured they couldn't have found a cooler place. He checked in a few select rooms, calling for the assholes every once in a while. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he made his way out the front broken down door. He avoided the broken boards and glass, stepping over them with causality.

He looked up at his friends, observing the scene in front of him. They had built a ramp of some type, and were proceeding to bike over it. Biking was a phase right now where they lived, all of the kids claimed they wanted to be one of the professionals. Daryl wasn't even sure they really had professionals for that, he always figured it was a little kid thing anyway. He shrugged it off as he walked a little closer to them, none of them having taken notice to him yet, he sat down on a fence.

"Real smooth there, asshole!" Daryl finally made his presence known when one of the guys had fallen after going over the ramp.

He was greeted warmly as a few of them rode over, pulling him into hugs. He could smell the alcohol on their breath, though he wasn't even fazed. He made small talk with them, as they joked and cut up with him. It only took a few minutes for most of them to get bored of talking and go back to jumping the ramp. Daryl accepted the cigarette from Wyatt, he never saw Wyatt without a cigarette he smoked at least two packs a day. That was even on a good day.

"Where y' been?" Wyatt's accent was thick, his dirt blonde hair stood out in all directions.

"Around." Daryl answered vaguely, Wyatt was one of Daryl's good friends but he didn't trust him enough to tell him about anything really.

Daryl listened to him talk about some girl he'd been going out with for quite a while. The thing about Wyatt, that Daryl had noticed right off the bat was he didn't mind talking to anyone about nothing. He could probably go on for hours about laundry detergent and Daryl wouldn't have been surprised.

They had, or Daryl had, been there for four hours at least. He'd borrowed Wyatt's bike a few times, just to show his own, but other than that, he was content to just sit on the fence and hangout with a few of them at a time. They'd gotten into one of their friend's box of beers and were greedily drinking them down. They were rough housing' and making stupid conversation about why a shotgun was useful when they heard an ambulance siren go off, it was almost nostalgic for them to run and bike after it.

Daryl was the only one on foot, but he figured he'd have been headed that way anyway, so he just casually jogged after it. He was barely aware that it was taking the exact path to his house. Slowly, the realization kicked in as he ran to catch up with the now stopped bikes. It wasn't hard to see that it was his house, the smoke still radiating off it even though he couldn't see any sign of fire.

He could feel his friend's open mouths and their stares on the back of his head as he walked closer. His heart was beating fast, and he was sure it wasn't from the run. There must've been at least fourteen firemen, and at least ten policemen, that was the thing about living in a small town nothing exciting ever happened. He couldn't think straight, as he ran into the black house, ignoring the calls of the people outside.

Once he was in, he made sure to step carefully, not sure what could fall through and what was sturdy. It was a mess, everything was burned, granted they hadn't had much in the first place, but it was all ash. He peeked in Merle's room, just to make sure, he was pretty sure his brother was at work but couldn't help but at least check. He shakily made his way into his mother's room, eyeing her pile of ash. The bed was disintegrated; everything looked like piles of charcoal. He didn't think he'd be forgetting that image anytime soon. To keep from letting out a sob, he brought his fist to his mouth biting down on the knuckle. His eyes were tearing; he could feel them, as he made his way out of the house throwing off the hands of the police trying to comfort him.

He knew they didn't really give a shit; this was just their job that was all. It was what put bills on the table, and he knew they took one look at the cigarettes and the wine and wrote it off. Daryl didn't doubt his mother had done this, it was something she would be drunk enough to do. He put his hands behind his head, shaking his head from side to side. Everything was gone, and he had no idea where his brother was.

No one seemed to know what to do with Daryl, as he screamed and cussed, even as he picked up a few rocks and chucked them at the house. They all turned to look at the rev of a motorcycle, as it parked and Merle stepped off. Daryl didn't even look up.

Merle walked right up to a police officer, found out what happened, nodded once. He said thank you politely to the police, as they tried to diminish the crowd that had formed. The ambulance had already left, along with the fire truck.

Daryl finally eyed his brother from his seat on the street, his elbows resting on his knees. Merle walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, then proceeded to sit down next to him. Daryl frantically brushed away his watery eyes, not wanting Merle, or anyone for that matter, to see. He rubbed his forehead lightly, letting out a shaky breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding in. He calmed down rather quickly, Merle handed him a cigarette and he took it, vaguely aware of the irony.

_Daryl nearly fell out of his chair when he heard his room's door slam open, crashing against the wall. His eyes showed reflections of fear as he stared up into his father's brutal eyes. He was momentarily aware of the way his father's fists clenched and unclenched._

"_Why the fuck are you here?" His father grabbed him by the wrist, swiftly yanking him out of chair. _ _Daryl's eyebrows furrowed, he hadn't realized he wasn't supposed to be home, no one let him know. It was only ten on a weekend. _

_Daryl knew better than to talk to his father, all of it seemed like 'talking back' to his dad. He was thrown unto the living room, barely having time to deflect the kicks his father threw viciously. He had barely turned nine and his body was too frail to be taking the kicks that it was, every blow Daryl fearfully awaited the sounds of his bones crushing._

_He nearly threw up when he felt a rather strong kick planted in his abdomen. He could hear the words his father was saying, worthless, girlish, he was hated. He took a few breaths when his father stopped, hopeful that that was it and his father would leave him alone. He managed to sit up on his elbows long enough to look up at his father. His eyes flashing to the belt his dad held, quickly trying to scamper away, in fetal attempt as he felt the blow of a belt on his back._

_He'd lost track of how many times the belt had come in contact with his skin, all he knew was that everything burned, he couldn't feel any of his back and his screams were painful to his own ears. He thought his shoulder was gonna be ripped out of socket when his father picked him up by the arm again. They walked through the kitchen, Daryl was astounded to see a girl there, and her face seemed pretty cold as she watched him get thrown out the back door. He hit the ground hard, a sharp squeal of pain forcing its way out of his mouth. He heard the lady utter "Who was that?" to his father. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows, wondering the exact same thing, unsure of whom she was._

_He lay there, not daring to move, as every breath he took made everything ache. He could feel his shirt was drenched, unsure of if it was blood or sweat. He closed his eyes, burying his head in his arms, to muffle his sobs. _

_Merle was walking back to his house; he'd forgotten his pocket knife and planned on sneaking in through his window. His father had told him earlier to get his brother and him out of the house, Merle knew exactly why, his mother just so happened to be at her work and it was a perfect time for him to bring some girl back to the house. He wasn't too worried about Daryl, he usually was out of the house by eleven anyway, but suddenly seemed to second guess himself as he heard silent muffled cries. _

_He sighed the moment he saw his little brother laying there, he wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but he definitely didn't look good. Merle quietly crouched down next to him, lifting the back of his brother's shirt up. Daryl's reaction was absolute panic, as he slammed back unto his own back, forcing a squinted face and groan from the pain the movement caused. _

"_Hey kid." Merle placed a hand on his brother's head, ruffling his hair. _

_Daryl bit his lip as he stared at his brother, surprised at why he wasn't being mocked. He was sure he had looked like a baby, sobbing on the grass like a four year old. He watched Merle stand up, and move to lift him to his feet. Daryl tried to push him away, to get him to stop, not enjoying the sharp stings of pain that moving gave him._

"_Stop being such a pansy, Daryl." Merle announced roughly, making Daryl finally give up and let himself be helped to a standing position._

_Merle allowed his younger brother to use him as a crutch, walking him towards the front of the shit ugly house. _


	7. Sober Up

**Thank you for the reviews, it really does inspire me to write more. (: (I think this may be a short one but hang in there with me)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, it all belongs to the walking dead/amc/etcetcetc.**

**Warnings: Language per usual.**

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Daryl wasn't sure what had finally brought him to reality, as his eyes came into focus and his hands started trembling again. He glanced up eyeing the house, frantically trying to calm his own breathing. He dropped his cigarette, not bothering to stomp it out. What was it going to do? Catch a house on fire? He cupped the sides of head, pushing his palms as hard as he could. His hands knotted through his hair, angrily pulling at the edges.

He could feel Merle stand up, if Daryl didn't know him better he would've thought he didn't give a damn about what had happened. He may not have cared much that they lost a mouth to feed, but he definitely cared about those lost belongings, the lost place to live. Daryl wasn't sure what his brother's plan was, but knew he'd have followed Merle to the end of the world and back if he had to.

Merle grabbed his brother's arm, right above the elbow, his fingers pushing in as he pulled him to his feet. Merle knew his baby brother was soft, but even the soft Dixon's don't sit and cry about shit for hours. Daryl ungracefully tripped over his own feet, as he stood up, swaying a little. Merle laughed at him, he couldn't believe after that whole experience he wasn't sobered up.

Merle had come down from his high the moment he saw the scene, Daryl had been storming around like a kid having a temper tantrum. Merle rubbed the back of his own head, as his mind started trying to figure out where they were going to go.

"Okay, brother. Let's go." Merle's drawl was thick as he looked over the bike and truck.

Merle motioned for Daryl to help him get the bike into the bed of the truck; it wasn't an easy thing to do without a ramp. Merle thought he was going to faint every time they almost lost it.

Daryl kept his head down once they successfully managed to convert the bike to the back of the truck. His eyes were cast down as he waited for Merle's next set of instructions. As Merle was about to tell him to get into the truck, Daryl's eyes suddenly show realization. He looked around frantically towards the house.

"My crossbow." Daryl heard Merle's audible groan, as Daryl made his way to the house in some slight hope that it would be there.

He looked to where they hung the weapons; there was never hope that they would be there since the firemen probably confiscated everything they could find. His hands searched through the closet, still slightly hopeful. He grunted when he didn't find anything, storming out of the house past Merle and jumping into the passenger's side of the truck. Daryl was less than happy, he could kill those cop bastards.

Merle slid into the driver's seat, rolling his eyes at his baby brother's anger. He drove off rather quickly, not completely sure of where they were headed. He had a few hundred dollars in his pocket from a recent sell, but he was pretty sure they'd be spending a few nights asleep in this truck.

Daryl's mind was reeling as he lay against the window, his head resting uncomfortably against the pane. He watched the trees go by until his eyes started to hurt. Merle hadn't said a word to him, and he hadn't said a word to Merle. He wasn't sure he liked the silence, his mind was in over-drive and the relief was pouring through his system. He hated the fact that he was nearly happy that his mother was gone, he never had to listen to her pretend to care, or see her drink herself silly. He didn't have to see her rot away anymore; he didn't have to buy her cigarettes and wine bottles.

Daryl never really blamed his mother for anything, except falling in love with his father in the first place. It wasn't her fault he beat them senseless, he remembered how rare it was when his father hit his mother. Daryl's father was very strict in his views of what a man should be, strong and powerful. That's how he tried to raise his sons, but Daryl never wanted to believe that. He wanted to continue to look at his father like he was Satan himself, or at least a demon of some sort. He broke everyone he ever knew, and Daryl was the only one that realized it. He'd broken his mother, and Merle, and Daryl and even himself.

Daryl didn't want to think anymore, he could feel his eyes becoming heavy as his vision blurred from the scenery outside the window. He could faintly hear the purr of the engine, and Merle's subtle whistling.

_Daryl was not looking forward to Christmas this morning, he was nearly fourteen years old, it wasn't shocking that he wasn't planning on getting any presents. He figured maybe if his father was feeling generous he wouldn't beat him nearly as bad tonight. His father had started a routine, it used to not be as often, four or five times a week maybe, but now it was like something had switched. It'd become a daily activity. He missed his brother; his punk ass brother got himself jailed somehow. His mother hadn't bought groceries in weeks; he figured her job demoted her. He never thought he'd have to steal for food, but he was being brought to that point nowadays. He never would've had to do that had Merle not abandoned him._

_His friends had asked him what he was planning on getting, forcing Daryl to lie about the fact that his parents wouldn't be getting him anything. He knew he would leave the house around noon; he'd stay off the roads where he was sure all the bratty kids would be playing with their new bikes and toys. He'd probably play around in the woods for a while, and maybe bury that dog he found last week. _

_He rubbed the back of his neck as he shuffled out of his room quietly; he didn't want to wake anyone up, frightened of what would happen if he did. He made his way down the hall, his socks padding softly on the wooden floor. He reached the kitchen, looking to see if he could manage to find any form of food. Usually his mother would buy him and Merle a little something, and make some cookies and set out some milk. Things weren't the same though, his mother was drinking more than ever and his father couldn't be more distant. He didn't want to put the blame on Merle but he couldn't help think that that was the reason. _

_Daryl finally settled on a cup of water, chugging it down swiftly. He went to find his boots quickly after, pausing when he looked near the door. He furrowed his eyes at the brand new crossbow that lean against the door, a sash of arrows right next to it. He went over timidly, still not sure how it got in here. He searched it for a note, finding one tied to it._

"_Merry Christmas Darylina, love Merle." _

_He knew he'd wake up any second; he'd wanted a crossbow since he was barely old enough to talk. Their grandfather had had a small collection, and Daryl loved them ever since then. He didn't think it was real, Merle was still in the can, and he couldn't have managed to get it here. Could he? Daryl finally figured if it was a dream, he might as well enjoy it. He slung it over his shoulder, and figured he'd have to teach himself how to use one. He'd spent all day in the woods that day, learning very quickly what not to do, earning a sore shoulder. _

Daryl opened his eyes, the dim of the dark coaxing him back to sleep, only waking up fully when he felt a rough hit to the back of his head. He flinched away from habit, looking up at his older brother who was grinning ruefully at him.

"Ya reckon you're hungry there, Darylina?" Merle questioned him, already pulling into a gas station.

"I could eat." Daryl agreed, not caring that it was going to be a meal of chips and cokes tonight. It wouldn't have been the first time. "We got the money?"

"Ain't got a lot, but some leftover from a recent sell. Some in the compartment too." Merle handed Daryl a little money, stepping out of the car to fill it up with gas.

Daryl wasn't surprised that Merle had some from leftover sells; Merle was always dealing, selling, and doing. They kept sixty dollars in the glove compartment for emergencies or times like these. He slid out of the car, walking into the tiny store. He walked towards the refrigerator section, grabbing a few sodas for himself and Merle. He then proceeded to grab some various edible items, a few bags of chips and a couple of candy bars.

As he made his way to the counter, the cashier met his eyes. Her eyes were soft on his, as he looked down. He awkwardly placed the items on the counter, patiently waiting for her to scan them.

"Hey, is that your bike out there, the one on the truck?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Er, no. It's my brother's." Daryl noted that her accent wasn't thick and figured they must've driven a whiles away from their home by now. He was suddenly self-conscious of his drawl, and rough clothes. He eyed the items awkwardly, wanting her to scan them already. She scanned them after a few seconds, smiling at him sweetly.

"Where are y'all headed?" She asked as she put the drinks in the bag and then the chips.

Daryl wasn't exactly sure how to answer that, considering he didn't even know. He really wasn't sure why she'd be talking to a hick like him, she seemed casual enough.

"To visit our father…" Daryl answered without thinking, saying the first thought that came to his mind. He mentally cursed himself; he didn't see why he couldn't tell her something like Florida. Awkwardly, he handed her the money, quickly taking the change.

"That's nice. Have a good day." She smiled at him one last time as he walked out of the store as fast as he could.

"Let's go, Merle." He put the bag in the truck.

"I gotta piss. It's your turn to drive." Merle threw him the keys, walking into the store.

Daryl got in the car, turning the key, and rolling the windows down. It was a cool night and he was looking forward to the harsh wind across his face. After a few minutes of waiting, he looked at the convient store, and saw Merle talking to the same girl as before. Daryl sunk in his seat when she pointed to the truck. He hoped they were talking about motorcycles.


	8. Ain't Gonna Love You

**Hi guys, this one is pretty short, so I apologize for that. Figured this was better than nothing. (: __****Love the reviews and everything, so keep sending them in.**

_**Disclaimer: Per usual, I own no one.**_

_**Warnings: Language and Child Abuse.**_

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Daryl watched his brother make his way back to the truck with that shit eating grin on his face. He waited until his brother shut the door, before backing up out of there. Once they were back on the roads, he relaxed his driving skills and drove with his wrist, casually.

"She sure was a looker." Merle almost seemed to groan, "Wouldn't mind someone like that, mmmhm."

"She wouldn't look twice at someone like us, Merle." Daryl watched Merle laugh and then nod in agreement.

"Ain't our type anyhow, kid."

Daryl kept driving, occasionally switching hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd been driving, but Merle was passed out beside him. Daryl's eyes burned, and the darkness didn't seem to be helping the fact that all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn't want to wake Merle up, knowing he wouldn't be in a good mood. He reached over and turned the air all the way to cold, hoping it would keep him awake.

Daryl could see the light blue that was forming in the sky; he knew it'd be sunset soon. He was almost tempted to pull over on the side of the road, and get some sleep too. He still didn't have any idea where they were going anyhow; he began to pull of unto the road side. The moment the car came to a stop, Merle jerked away.

"Your turn to drive." Daryl grunted, stepping out of the car. He stretched his legs, running in place a little, before leaning against the side of the car as he waited for Merle to wake up completely. The air was crisp and cold and Daryl felt the sharp wind.

Daryl watched his brother silently get out of the car and push past Daryl towards the driver's side. Daryl rubbed his shoulder, before rubbing his eyes tiredly and getting in the passenger's side. He slammed the door shut as Merle quickly sped off. Daryl didn't know what Merle was frustrated at, but he definitely didn't dare to ask. He could barely keep his eyes open anyway and it wasn't long before he fell into a sleep.

_He could feel the pain; he could feel the lashes of the belt, raining down on his back. He did not cry, but he winced with every familiar singe. He could hear his father's heavy breathing, could smell the sweat and the alcohol._

"_You mean nothing, to no one. Ain't never will. You worthless piece of shit." His father's words were strong and full of hate. _

_Daryl did not bother pretending it wasn't true, he didn't bother pretending he would ever be loved by anyone. He thought his brother loved him, he thought, but his brother was nowhere to be found. He'd taken off and Daryl had no clue if he'd ever see him again. So much for blood is thicker than water._

_His own breathing was irregular and pained; he wished vaguely that his father would clock him in the head, so at least he wouldn't have to endure the fact that he couldn't fight back. _

_He lay still, unmoving; until he was positive his father had left the house. Daryl wasn't sure what was happening as his chest tightened, and he couldn't regain his breath. The sweat was pouring down his body, instantly going cold. He could feel his body trembling, shaking. He didn't trust himself to stand, afraid he would fall over, but moved unto a sitting position, burying his head in his hands. His body was a wreck and he could feel the welts swelling up. His head was pounding, and he was desperately trying to breathe. He gasped his brother's names a few times, desperately wanting the harsh cruelty of his brother, knowing it would bring him back. _

_He didn't want to cry, but the trembling of his body, was making himself difficult to control. He could feel the tears pooling over, as he wound himself tightly around his own body, his hands gripping into his hair._

"Daryl! Wake up." Merle was shaking his brother's arm.

Daryl jumped awake, his body instantly jerking away from his brother, his body curling in on himself. He could feel the sweat in his hair and his shirt was sticking to himself. His eyes were wide and panic-stricken. He could feel his hands trembling; the scars on his back and chest were stinging. Every time he blinked his eyes he saw his father with a belt.

"Nightmare?" Merle questioned him lightly; he had woken his baby brother up when his whimpers became too embarrassing for even Merle to listen to anymore.

"Yeah." Daryl's breathing became calmer once he realized where he was, but the stings of the scars still hadn't died down. He took a sip of one of the sodas, noting that it was early morning. He wouldn't have guessed he slept that long and they still seemed to be traveling down the same road. "Hey Merle… where are we goin' anyway?"

Merle seemed to furrow his brow, becoming uncharacteristically serious.

"Dad doesn't know ma's dead." Merle instantly pulled over on the side of the road, already guessing his brother's reaction.

Daryl jumped out of the car the moment it was stopped, followed shortly by Merle. He raised his hands up over his head and pointed at his brother.

"No way, ain't goin' back to him. You're shit crazy, you go back." Daryl used his hands for emphases, pointing at him on the word you. "He didn't give a shit about ma'. He won't give a rat's ass."

Merle knew very well that was the case, truth be told, he wanted revenge on his father, he wanted to hurt him in every way that he had ever hurt Daryl or himself. He wanted to take away everything that was good in his life, and make him suffer, and then kill the bastard. Merle wouldn't dare tell Daryl this plan of his, he's too soft, and he would never be able to pull it off. He needed Daryl to believe all they were gonna do was tell their dad what had happened.

"Get your ass back in the car, Darylina. Time to man up." Merle almost thought his little brother was going to start whimpering again, but was pleased to see him get in the car with no real fight at all. This proved to Merle that Daryl really was terrified to be alone.

"I ain't bringin' him flowers." Daryl stated once Merle climbed back into the driver's seat. He grabbed the bag of chips, and ate a few. They weren't sure where their dad even was, which gave Daryl time to make Merle re-think his plan.


	9. Booze and Beauties

_**Hi guys! Thank you for all the reviews and love. I'm gonna keep updating I promise, they might just be a little slow and short. I have to come up with some major plot points, and then it'll flow better, but for now enjoy a filler!**_

_**Disclaimer: Alcohol usage, and Dixon Language(meaning lots and lots of cursing) plus slight sexual innuendos, as usual.**_

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_A five year old Daryl peeked into his brother's room, to see him sleeping. He half-hung off the bed, and hadn't even changed clothes. Daryl had a bruised eye, he figured he must've done something to deserve it. He shuffled into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He could see Merle's scars protruding clearly from his shoulders, and lifted his own shirt to see the newly marked line on his own chest. He wondered if his would be as tough as Merle's when he got older. _

_He took a step, careful not to wake his sleeping older brother, knowing a sleeping lion was never something you wanted to wake. Keeping his steps quiet, which wasn't hard considering he weighed in rather low on the charts, only being 30 lbs. He climbed up unto his brother's bed slowly, eyeing him to make sure he didn't wake up. He curled up; lying with his back to his brother's and closed his eyes._

Daryl eyed his brother, who was still driving, he clearly remembered that day, and he hadn't grown up yet. He was young enough to not understand why his father did that, he only knew that he loved Merle. He hadn't lost his childhood yet, it wasn't until he was eight did he truly realize that he wasn't loved by his parents, and was instead left with someone who didn't know how to love. He never expected Merle to drop everything for him, never asked him to. Daryl had zoned out again, staring off into the distance of the world outside the car, he didn't like the way the highway looked, and there were too many cars. It was different than what he was used to, the vast forests of his too small town house located only a few moments away from the local trailer park.

He was shocked out of his day dream, when he felt a firm slap to the side of his face. He winced away instantly; rubbing along the red mark and looking incredulously back at his older brother.

"Wanna get boozed up, 'lil brother?" Merle questioned, grinning broadly at him.

Daryl didn't even have time to respond as Merle sped up into the liquor store. He wasn't sure if Merle wanted to keep driving, or if they were going to pull off into some sleazy motel. He figured the latter, as he watched Merle step out of the car. Daryl opened the glove compartment, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he stepped out of the car, closing the door and leaning against it. He lit the cigarette, tucking a foot behind his other, and placed the rest of the pack on the hood of the car.

He took in his surroundings, they were nearing Savannah. He wasn't sure how Merle had any clue where their father was, he didn't want to know. He took a drag of the cigarette, glaring at a wandering pack of teenagers who seemed to be trying to get the nerve up to ask him for one. He figured they were probably trying to get someone to buy them booze too, he wouldn't though if he had to go his whole teen years trying to get beer, so did they.

He glanced towards the store; Merle was still looking through the beer cases, Daryl sighed. He was startled by a 5'4 girl standing next to him, he reckoned her to be about seventeen. He cocked an eyebrow at her, he had to admit it took some nerve to approach him, with his sleeveless plaid shirt, ripped jeans, pick-up truck, complete with Harley in the back he was a stereotypical hick.

"Can you buy me and my friends some beer?" The girl placed a hand on her hip, though her hands seemed shaky and insecure.

Daryl had to admit it was a good tactic, as he glanced over at the teenagers again; she seemed to be the only girl. He was slightly pissed off at the fact that they let her walk over alone, it wouldn't be hard for any guy to overpower her and he knew guys that would have in a heartbeat.

"No." Daryl took another drag of the cigarette, watching the store again. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she turned to her friends shrugging exasperatedly, noticing how they made motions for her to continue.

"Please? Look, I've had a really bad night and I could really use something to take the edge off, sir. I have the money for it and everything." She reached into her pocket taking out twenty dollars and put her hand out, offering him the money.

Daryl took another drag as he cringed at the name 'sir'. Shit he must've been getting old, he groaned eyeing her again. He didn't want to be responsible for her turning up in the papers dead next week or anything. He was about to refuse her again when Merle walks out, putting the cans of beer into the back of the truck.

Daryl tossed his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out, and getting ready to jump in the car when Merle turned to talk to the girl.

"What can I do for you, darlin'?" Merle smiled at her charismatically, Daryl knew he knew already, he'd made note of the guys in the distance and there wasn't much she could be asking for.

"Uh, my friends...And I was just trying to get something to drink." She smiled back at him; Daryl noticed she was a little unsure of herself now that he was there.

"Alright, Daryl will go buy you some." Merle took the cash out of her hand, handing it to Daryl before grabbing a can out of the trunk and opening it.

The girl's smile was wide as she made thumbs up motion to her clique of guys. Daryl rolled his eyes, walking inside the store. He walked to the back where the beer was, and grabbed one of the cheapest containers; he really was worried about the girl and those guys. Who knew what would happen if she got too drunk, he cringed at the thought. He slid the container on the counter, glaring at the cashier, willing him to say something. He didn't, and simply handed the money back to Daryl along with the beer. Daryl rested it on his shoulder, holding it with one hand as he walked back to the girl and his brother. Daryl noticed right away his brother's shit eating grin as the girl squealed thankfully.

"Hey now, how bout' a little show as payment?" It didn't take a genius to tell that Merle wasn't trying to read what her shirt said, as she blushed scarlet.

"Uh-uhm." She stuttered, looking down at the ground. Daryl grunted angrily at his older brother, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"She's seventeen, Merle." Daryl turned her around pushing her towards her friends, walking along with her.

"Whatever." Merle took a swig of his beer, getting into the driver's seat.

Daryl wasn't about to make her carry the beer back by herself. They walked in silence till they reached her friend's, who all proceeded to thank him immensely. He handed the case to one of the guys, shrugging their thanks off.

"Just be real fuckin' careful. I don't want to read about any of y'alls deaths tomorrow."

Once he reached the car, he grabbed out a beer from the trunk, and slipped into the passenger's seat.

"Next time do your own damn dirty work, asswipe." Daryl murmured angrily, chugging his beer.

"Yeah yeah, now let's find us a hotel."


	10. Who's He?

**_I think this was a relatively good chapter, and a nice quick(for me at least) update. It's decently long and everything, so enjoy. Reviews honestly make me want to write more, so if you have the time just send one in. You're choice of course._**

**_Disclaimer: Of course I do not own anything._**

**_Warnings: Strong Abuse Trigger, Breakdowns, some language, and general Merle/Daryl banter. _**

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_Daryl was sixteen; he was still on the small side comparatively to his father and Merle, even though he hadn't seen the latter in around a year. He didn't want to admit that he'd been counting. It was around ten o clock; Daryl had been out hunting until he decided it was probably too dark. He walked into his house, as quietly as he could manage. It didn't matter as he saw his father sitting in the living room with his friend. Daryl shuddered, the man, Nick, he never liked him, but this was the first time he found him in his house. The man's eyes were cold and he always managed to wear wife beaters and leather jackets, a little too similar to his father for comfort._

_They both eyed him as he walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Daryl thought momentarily about leaving and sleeping outside tonight, it was cold though and he wasn't sure it was even safe for him to be out there in this weather. He wasn't surprised as he saw the numerous bottles of beer surrounding the men, only a few left full. He flinched at their loud guffaws, in some unheard joke; he sauntered off to the kitchen to get himself something to eat._

_He rummaged through the kitchen, grunting at the lack of food. He found a bag of chips, decided it would have to do and sat down shoveling his face with food. He listened to the men joke and laugh; their sinister words were cruel and uncaring. He didn't want to admit he was scared, knowing Nick wouldn't be bothered to care. Daryl ran over things in his mind, trying to remember if anything he'd done lately would've gotten him in trouble. _

_Daryl finished the bag of chips after a while, the conversation in the living room had died, and he was hoping that they were both passed out. He threw the bag carelessly in the trash, walking out of the kitchen and towards the living room, looking over at the scene. His father was passed out and didn't seem to be waking up anytime soon, Daryl glanced at the other man who was casually drinking a bottle and eyeing him._

_Daryl shuddered, he hoped not visibly, as he tried to walk faster to his room, he didn't like the feeling his father's friend was giving him, and could not wait to be farther away from the man. _

"_Wait, boy." The man said sternly, causing Daryl to stop from habit. _

_Daryl had a moment of questioning; trying to figure out if he should or shouldn't listen to the man. On one hand, the man wasn't his father and he didn't have a right to tell him what to do. But on another, he could tell his father and then Daryl would be in for it later._

"_Yessir?" Daryl looked at the man questioningly, his hand casually running through his hair._

"_Pick this shit up." Nick demanded, pointing to the bottles. Daryl reacted fast, comfortable with direction; he went to pick up as many as he could. Piling them in his arms, he stood up, wanting to get out of there fast, going to walk back towards the kitchen so that he could go to the backdoor. _

_Nick stuck his foot out, tripping Daryl, glass shattering on the floor. Daryl landed amidst the glass, his hands catching his fall as they stuck with a few glass shards. _

"_Good for nothing, bitch, clean it up!" Nick yelled angrily, kicking Daryl swiftly in the side with his boot._

_Daryl winced before he frantically sat on his knees, grabbing all the glass he could, ignoring the sharp stings of pain and his bleeding hands. His breathing was harsh, his nerves dancing. Daryl dropped the glass as he felt the man roll him over, sitting on his stomach, pinning his shoulders down. _

"_You are a bitch, aren't you?" The man hissed, slamming his shoulders down on the wood floors again. Daryl could feel more glass sticking to his back, wincing at the stinging sensation._

"_C'mon now be a good little bitch for me."_

_Daryl raised his arms up near his head, his hands going up in a defending manor as he tried to swivel his hips to get the man to unpin him. Daryl waited for punches, for the blows, but they didn't come, however the man didn't let up on his pin. He glanced nervously at the man, slightly confused. His mind understand when the man grabbed one of the glass shards, Daryl thought momentarily that the man was going to kill him. That wasn't the case as the man pulled down the side of Daryl's pants causing him to attempt to punch the man in the face. The man blocked him, punching him in the jaw, Daryl heard the audible crack. _

_He felt the man grip his side, before he felt the stinging sensation of a wound. He felt the man etch into his skin, his grip was impossible to get out of and he waited it out._

_After he was done, Daryl got up, the man letting him run to his room. Daryl frantically took off his shirt, lowering his pants so his hip was exposed, nearly screaming in anger at what he saw "Bitch." was written clear and sharp, over the exposed bone of his narrow hips. _

It took them a few miles to find the closest motel; Merle was already on his third can of beer by the time they pulled into one. It was run down, and looked like a place strippers probably got called a lot. They both hopped out of the car, taking in the fresh air, it was far away from the city, and they were happy for that. It felt almost normal to them, almost.

They walked into the front office room; Merle leaned on the counter, ringing the bell profusely. Daryl stood awkwardly, his arms stuck in his pockets, and a scowl on his face. When the man finally came out, Merle straightened up, nodding his head towards the man.

Daryl took in the man; he looked to be about sixty something, and looked harshly familiar to him. Merle asked the man about prices, which was when Daryl finally noticed who he was. He read the man's name tag, seeing Nick only confirmed everything for him. He swayed slightly, unconsciously moving closer to his brother, bumping shoulders with him, he stayed almost behind Merle, avoiding eye contact with the man.

"Yeah it'll be sixty for a night. Hey, son, you okay?" The man asked curiously, his eyes nearly registering Daryl as well.

"He's a little buzzed up tonight, excuse him. Here." Merle chuckled, taking out his license to show to the man.

"I don't want- Merle..I can we leave?" Daryl whispered low enough that the man wouldn't hear, his eyes pleading with his older brother, who shrugged him off, pushing him away slightly.

The man looked over the license, his eyes resting on the last name, jerking his eyes back up to the brothers, mainly Daryl. He grimaced before nodding, handing the license back to Merle and taking the money. He walked back to the closet like place behind the counter, taking a key off the shelf and sliding it across the counter to Merle.

"203, is the door number. Have a good night." He smiled at them, before turning around and going back into the small corner where a tv was.

Daryl couldn't get out of there any faster as he all but ran to the car, jumping in the passenger's seat and waiting for Merle so that they could get to the hotel. Daryl's mind was flooding with memories of the man, his hand resting on his hip touching the word printed there. He grimaced, gnawing on his lip as his brother slid into the driver's seat.

"What's your problem?" Merle groaned, annoyed at his brother's antics.

Daryl shook his head, motioning for Merle to just forget it. They found the building to their room rather quickly, parking the car out front and both of them getting out. Daryl grabbed the beer case, throwing it onto his shoulder, following Merle to their room. The place wasn't clean but it wasn't much dirtier than their house used to be so it didn't bother either one of the brother's.

Merle shut the door behind them as Daryl put down the case of beer, urging his mind to stop working for a few minutes so he didn't have to think about what just happened. He took one of the beers chugging it, stomping his feet in reaction to the warm burning sensation. Merle chuckled, locking the door before taking a beer, and falling unto the bed, grabbing the remote. He crossed his legs, pressing the on button to the tv.

"Hey Merle, where did ya get all this money?" Daryl opened Merle's wallet looking through the few hundreds that remained, glancing over his shoulder at his brother.

"Had a bit saved up for in case somethin' happened. I ain't that irresponsible, ya know." Merle chuckled chugging his beer.

"Just surprised you didn't waste it to get high." Daryl grimaced, putting the wallet down and kept sipping his own beer. He sat in the chair, putting his feet up on the table and watched the tv absentmindedly.

It didn't take long for Merle to fall asleep, leaving Daryl buzzed and alone with his own thoughts. He decided he was going to take a shower, not having had one in a few days he didn't doubt that he smelled disgusting. As he walked to the bathroom, he stripped off his shirt; he glanced at himself in the mirror before turning on the hot water. He stripped down, before getting clean. While he was in the shower, he was able to focus on the task of getting clean, but as he put his clothes on, his hands traced over the scar.

It wasn't as visible anymore, he let his hips ride low as he stared, he could make it out still, and so could others had anyone seen it. His breath caught in his throat, as he felt his eyes start to water, grasping his head in his hands he tried desperately to get the pictures out of his mind. He hated that fucking man, hated him so bad, he was faintly aware of recurring pain, glancing down at his body feeling the familiar sting of glass that wasn't there anymore.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl yelled his anger and frustration getting the best of him as he punched straight through the mirror creating a loud shattering sound that managed to wake his brother up. Daryl sank to the floor his sobs were harsh against his chest, his arms clutching himself.

Merle walked in, leaning against the door frame glancing at his half-dressed brother with a bloody fist and a shattered mirror.

"We're gonna have to pay for that Daryl." Merle groaned. "What's the problem little brother?"

"I know him.. he I know him." Daryl's voice was cracking as he made eye contact with Merle who's eyes softened slightly.

"Who, the owner?" Merle cocked an eyebrow at his little brother; he hadn't seen that man a day in his life. "Why's he so important."

"Just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone." Daryl whimpered, his body shaking visibly, he sat cross legged on the floor, holding unto himself. Merle rolled his eyes, he had to admit he got tired of his brother's melt downs, but figured they all did come with pretty good reason.

"Naw, little brother. You don't want that, c'mon now. Man up and tell Merle what happened." Merle crouched down to his brother's level, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes.

Daryl didn't want to tell Merle everything, barely even wanted to admit it happened. He gnawed on his lip, before glancing at Merle. He pointed to the mark on his hip bone, worried he'd have to tell Merle what it said.

"He did that?" Merle grunted deep in his throat, his eyes cold.

"Y-Yeah." Daryl kept his head low, burying his head in his hands rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted, his eyes heavy with the need to sleep. He was still shaken up, but for some reason Merle just had this ability to calm him down.

"C'mon, get your ass in bed. We got shit to do tomorrow." Merle helped Daryl to his feet, not bothering to grab his brother's shirt for him. He could tell by the way Daryl was acting that that wasn't the only thing that man had done, and it took everything Merle had to not run to the office and murder that son of a bitch. He looked at Daryl's scars; he had more than Merle by quite a lot, which left Merle feeling unnaturally guilty.

He made sure Daryl was in bed first, before sliding in beside him, figuring he'd clean up the bathroom tomorrow. He kept his back to his little brother; both of them never uttered a word to each other.

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_**I'd like you to request what else you think/want Nick to have done to Daryl, (because I'm a little indecisive.) Because there is going to be something more, I'm just not sure what yet. If I want to go towards a little bit darker side of things, or what. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, due to the feelings of the second to last episode of TWD it gave me loads of feelings. **_


	11. Bloody Noses and Battles

**_Okay, this is a super short chapter but I wasn't sure what else I could put in it. Thank you for all the helpful reviews and opinions3 Next chapter I'll work much harder on, promise. _**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

**_Warnings: Almost Attempted Rape, Language._**

_It'd been a few weeks since the event, the word on Daryl's hip had scabbed up and now the bruising around it was going down. Daryl currently lay on his bed, it was ten at night and he'd spent the whole day out in the woods, when it got later he was boozing up with a few of his friends. Daryl could've predicted when he had to go home, that he'd stay up trying to make sense of his life. He missed his brother terribly; he didn't even have a reason to go this time._

_Daryl glanced at the hunting knife lying on his bedside table, his eyes flickering for a moment. Considering the option, he grunted, kicking out at the desk before turning over in frustration. His arms wrapped themselves around his clad torso, his eyes begging for some sleep. He yawned sleepily against his pillow, closing his eyes quickly when the door to his room opened. Sometimes his father would sneak in and steal one of his packs of smokes, so he was hoping that was all he wanted. _

_His mind didn't even consider the fact that it could not be his father, but he furrowed his eyebrows when the man climbed onto the bed. His breathing shut down completely as he turned around, glaring at the man. Frightened when he saw Nick, with an evil glint to his eyes but his mouth wasn't curled into a smile. _

"_What're you doing? Get out." Daryl was trying to decide between throwing the blanket over his head and kicking the man and running. _

"_Shh, it's okay baby." The man went to lean over Daryl, his beer breath warming his face, to which Daryl cringed, grabbing the man's shoulders to push him away._

"_I ain't your baby!" Daryl hissed, kicking him with his foot and scooting back to the corner of his bed. _

"_You bitch, just c'mere." Nick advanced him again, his hands grabbing Daryl's knees that were curled to his chest, forcing them flat. He grabbed Daryl by the back of his neck, forcefully pulling him into a kiss. Daryl tightened his lips, turning his head away. He felt Nick get the upper hand, sliding Daryl till he was lying flat on the bed, to which Daryl moved his body every which way, causing his hips to move frantically, much to the man's enjoyment. _

_Daryl paused for a second before throwing all his weight into a roll over. _

Daryl opened his eyes suddenly jumping into a sitting position, he saw Nick's figure leaning towards him, causing him to jump back, managing to fall to the floor with a loud crash. Once he figured out that Nick wasn't actually there, he calmed down. He looked around sleepily for Merle, surprised when he didn't find him. He looked down at his busted knuckles; they needed to be cleaned, for sure. He walked towards the bathroom, knocking.

"Merle? Ya in there?" Daryl grunted when he didn't hear an answer, pushing the door open slightly looking at the now cleaned bathroom. He looked back at the clock, it was two in the afternoon, he figured Merle must've been getting lunch or something. Daryl walked in to the bathroom, running his fingers under the cold water, hissing at the contact. Once he'd gotten his knuckles fixed he walked casually out of the bathroom, flipping on the T.V. He moved the curtains with one hand, peeking outside, confused when he saw that the car was still there and no Merle.

He sat down for a minute, lighting up a smoke, kicking his feet up on the table and taking a few drags while watching some random movie. It only took him around five minutes to get bored and decide to walk around outside. He was walking around the motel lot for quite some time before he reached the office, he wasn't itching to go inside and see Nick again, scared shitless of the idea. He stared at the doors for a few minutes, before looking back at the ground and continuing his walk. There was a gas station right next door, so he decided he'd walk over there, perhaps Merle had already.

He cut through the grass, jumping over the small portion of water that had gathered; thankful he stuck a few bucks in his pocket before he left. He walked into the gas station convient store, glancing around for Merle, furrowing his brow when he didn't seem him. He was beginning to be a little concerned at the whereabouts of his older brother. He hoped Merle hadn't just left him here on his own, but figured he wouldn't have left without his motorcycle.

Daryl bought a couple of candy bars and a soda before making his way back to their motel room. He'd just passed the office when he heard the door open, glancing back at Merle, he could tell instantly his brother had been in a fight. His observant mind quickly realizing exactly who he'd been in a fight with and why.

"Get your stuff, Daryl." Merle demanded, catching up to his brother. "I'll start the car."

Daryl didn't need to be told twice as he ran inside the room, grabbing their belongings and left over beer, setting it in the truck bed next to the motorcycle, Merle was already in the front seat as Daryl slipped into the passenger seat his eyes wide at his brother.

"You didn't kill him did you?" Daryl asked nervously.

"Ain't in good condition, but naw, I didn't kill him." Merle had no condolences for the man, no sympathy, nothing. Merle knew he deserved what came to him, even if he'd be deaf for the rest of his life.

Daryl's heart seemed to be racing a little, his head was still replaying his dream, he knew Merle wasn't going to pester him for more information for a while, but it didn't stop the nasty headache from coming. Daryl leaned his head against the cool glass, trying to elevate some of the pain. He didn't want to ask Merle anymore questions about him, he didn't care what happened to him.

"Gave me a little information on where dad is though." Merle mumbled, Daryl wasn't quite sure he was even talking to him. "Said last time he knew he was somewhere in Florida."

"You didn't know where he was before?" Daryl raised an eyebrow, groaning, he was still hoping Merle would change his mind and they'd move to a small town, get jobs, buy a house and just stay still for a while.

Merle didn't answer just glanced over at Daryl almost nervously, he pulled over on the side of the road. "You okay, Daryl?"

"Huh…?" He raised his hand up to his nose, glancing at the blood, his head was still pounding and his vision was quickly becoming blurred.

"Daryl?"

"…C'mon." Daryl glanced at his brother one last time before everything managed to fade to black.

He awoke what seemed like it was rather quickly after that, he had a cold cloth on his head and his eyes were slowly opening and closing. He reached out for his brother, his hand grasping Merle's hand naturally. He felt Merle's hand on his hair, a unfamiliar person dabbing his face, causing him to try to sit up desperately.

He glanced at his surroundings, another gas station, he groaned happy he wasn't in a hospital or something. He eyed the girl, who immediately seemed to back off, her smile was radiant and kind and he didn't like her one bit. He wasn't sure why he passed out, but he hadn't awoken in a very good mood. He listened to Merle and her chat for a few seconds, before pulling himself back fully inside the car and slamming the door shut, causing them both to turn and look. He was tired of Merle's antics, and he was tired of all these random girls. He didn't want to drive anymore; he just wanted to go home.

He didn't care about finding their dad, he didn't care about revenge, he didn't care about the burned house on their land, he didn't care about their lack of money. All he wanted to do was go home, get some clothes, find a job, and get home, back to where they belonged. He didn't know anything about Florida, and he wasn't itching to go there.

He groaned annoyed, rolling up his window and kicking his foot against the dashboard. He was frustrated, and hateful, and desperate, and he felt like he couldn't get his breathing under control for anything. This was too much stress for him, and he wasn't sure how long he could handle this little adventure.


End file.
